Restless
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: Sam is wearing himself out trying to help his brother, and Dean is not okay with that. Essentially, both the boys are unable to sleep, so they take part in some brotherly-bonding instead. Tag to 11x14 - The Vessel. Exhausted/Upset/Sam and Caring/Big Brother/Dean. One-shot.
Note: I have a broken finger, my middle finger on my left hand and it made typing this tremendously difficult, because it is splinted to my pointer finger, which means both fingers were out of commission. The point being, if there are any grammar or spelling errors, my bad, but don't tell me because I'm not fixing them until my fingers heal. ;) Enjoy!

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Dean was restless.

He rolled from side-to-side, trying and failing to find a comfortable position.

Not that it mattered, because he wasn't able to sleep regardless of comfort.

He supposed his unrest had something to do with time-travel, perhaps his body was confused or his mind was still working to comprehend what he had seen; whatever the reason, sleep would not come.

Dean sat up on the side of his bed, head in his hands, wondering if there would ever again be a day when he didn't feel weary right down to his bones.

He looked up and out the door at the sound of movement somewhere in the bunker. The exhausted man came to a stand, ignoring the cracking complaint of his knees and back, as he shuffled from his room.

He moved down the hall to the other bedroom that was meant to be occupied, only to find that it was – in fact – empty.

The sheets on the regularly made bed, were askew, proof that the resident of the room had also made a restless attempt at sleep.

"Sam." Dean sighed, both in sympathy and frustration as he continued past the abandoned bedroom.

An empty library and a glowing light emitting from further down the hallway told Dean all he needed to know about the whereabouts of his kid brother. Sure enough, he arrived in the kitchen to the sight of a tall straggly haired young man hunched over a stack of books.

"You drinking all the coffee again?"

The other hunter failed to notice his brother's arrival, and startled at the question, but recovered quickly.

"No. We still don't have any, haven't restocked yet." He answered simply, only glancing Dean's way for a short moment before focusing back on the research spread out before him.

"Well, if you stopped chugging the stuff, we wouldn't need to stalk up every other day." Dean huffed, before dropping down heavily across from his brother.

"Yeah, well I could say the same with you and all the beer." Sam retorted.

"Touché." Dean awarded.

The older man watched the younger as he focused on the literature spread out across the table top.

Dean didn't have to read it to know it would be about the Darkness. He didn't have to read Sam's mind to know that he was worried, and he didn't have to be a medical expert to know that Sam was beat. The kid looked like hell. The same way he had the year before Dean got dragged down to hell, or when he was a demon, or the entire time he possessed that damn mark.

A wave of guilt washed over Dean as he recalled all the occasions where Sam had sacrificed his well-being, because he was so busy trying to dig his older brother out of the pile of shit he kept getting himself into.

Sam was constantly left carrying around the weight of Dean's mistakes, having to solve the problems Dean created, and left cleaning up the mess that Dean made. Every damn time it happened, the eldest Winchester swore it would be the last, but it never was.

Killing Amara should be on Dean, just like the trials were supposed to be.

Sam nearly died doing the trials, and it had not escaped Dean how wrecked his little brother had been when he came back from being a demon, or when he finally got rid of the mark.

Dean was not going to let Sam work himself into the ground for him, again. It wasn't going to happen. Not this time.

"Dude, you need to get some rest." He stated.

"Can't." Sam mumbled, not even bothering to look up.

"You can, c'mon man, this will all still be here in the morning." He reasoned, reaching over and tapping his brother's arm.

Sam moved the limb out of reach and proceed to stare down at the text in front of him, not even bothering to grace Dean's comment with a response.

"Seriously, sasquatch, its bedtime." Dean declared, reaching out and flipping the book, which was holding his brother's concentration, closed.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam snapped, eyes finally rising to aim a vicious glare at the man across the table.

"You need to get some rest, Sam, you're no good to anyone if you're burnt-out." Dean announced, playing off his brother's self-sacrificial tendencies.

"I can't!" He argued with a shout, flipping the book back open.

"Well tough." Dean shot back, slamming the novel closed, his patience lost.

"No, Dean, I _can't_."

Dean's frustration faded at his brother's altered tone, Sam had gone from aggravated to distressed, in one quick moment.

And nothing could refocus Dean like his little brother's distress.

"I can't sleep. I tried." Sam admitted dejectedly.

Dean frowned, both at the new information, and the absolute exhaustion emitting from the kid in front of him.

"Dude, I know I've put a lot of pressure on you with the whole Amara thing, but I didn't mean for you to go into psycho-research mode. I don't want you to-

"It's not that." Sam interrupted.

Dean gave Sam a confused look, as he struggled to figure out which piece of the puzzle he was missing.

"I want to find Amara, believe me, but that's not what's keeping me up."

"Really?" Dean inquired in disbelief, waving his hand over all the Darkness-related research between them

"I'm doing this because I can't sleep; it's not the _reason_ I can't sleep." Sam insisted.

"Well then, what exactly is the _reason_ you can't sleep?"

Sam's gaze fell, not onto the numerous open books, but the twitching fingers he had resting on top of them. The way he was wringing his long fingers and chewing down on his bottom lip, told Dean that he was embarrassed, possibly ashamed.

And Dean didn't like that, not one bit.

"What's going on, Sam?" He questioned, leaning forward, trying to get into the younger man's line of sight.

"Lucifer."

It was barely more than a whisper, but Dean heard it loud and clear, and his blood-pressure instantly began to rise. His hands turned into fists and his jaw clenched, as anger flowed through his veins. The devil had messed with his little brother far too many times, and Dean was furious with himself for allowing it to happen again. If he ever laid eyes on that asshat again, he was going to tear his lungs out; and then after he was going to beat the shit out of Cas for allowing that bastard to use him as his own personal angel condom, and letting him out into the world to begin with.

Sam's continued conversation distracted Dean from his vengeful thoughts.

"It's just, every time I'm around him– even if I don't see his damn face – it gets to me. You know? There's more than a century of history that arises every time I come in contact with him, and it…the memories they…it just– it messes with me, messes with my head. I can't close my eyes without being back in that cage with him…it's just…I don't know, I'm sorry, man." Sam apologized, his voice thick with defeat.

Sam didn't need to explain, and Dean had no idea why in the world the kid thought that he had to, and he sure as **hell** didn't have anything to apologize for.

"You don't just get over it, Sam, even without having Lucifer and that damn cage being chucked in your face every five minutes. There is no way seeing him again – behind Cas' face or not – wouldn't mess with you, and you sure as shit don't get to be sorry for struggling with it. Don't ever be sorry for anything like that. Ever." Dean declared, voice rough with emotion, not even wanting to think of the trauma his brother had been through – and was being continually forced to relive.

"And another thing, no more one-on-one time with the devil, that's not allowed any more. It's not going to happen again. I swear." Dean added as a passionate side note.

Sam looked over at Dean, a small grateful smile lightening his weary expression.

Dean, as usual, found himself uncomfortable being the focus of his little brother's appreciation, and quickly pushed past the emotional moment.

"You want to go watch some TV?" He asked, standing and glancing around the room, sufficiently putting an end to the chic-flick moment.

Sam gave a rueful shake of his head, knowing exactly what Dean was doing, but going along with the change of conversation regardless.

"Nah, I think I'll just stick to research, maybe find something useful. You should get back to bed, dude, you look beat."

It was Dean's turn to shake his head.

"Sam, if I could sleep I wouldn't have been wondering around the bucker at one in the morning."

Sam's eyebrows rose, concern flooding his face.

"Don't get excited, it's nothing like that. It's just time-travel, it messes with my system." Dean explained briefly.

Sam studied the older hunter for a moment, unsure of his level of honesty, but eventually relented with a nod of his head.

"So, come watch TV with me." Dean encouraged, after he had appeared to pass his brother's visual examination.

Sam glanced between the various books he had spread out on the table, and his big brother.

There really was no competition.

"Fine." The younger man sighed, slowly climbing to his feet and putting on the act of reluctant little brother, while inside he was more than content to see the satisfied grin spread across Dean's face.

"Good. Let's go find something stupid on Netflix." He declared triumphantly, leading the way to Sam's room.

Sam huffed, always amused and slightly surprised at his brother's appreciation for the most moronic television programs.

They ended up watching _Hawaii-Five-O_. It was a remake of an old show that used to play on repeat in some of the motel rooms they grew up in. It was one of the few remakes Dean actually approved of, but he was only granting it a fraction of his attention, because most of his focus remained on the lanky man stretched out on the bed next to him.

Sam had sat-up and been entirely attentive for the first couple episodes, always guessing who the killer was before the TV characters caught on, show off. However, by the third episode, the younger man was fading and – with some subtle encouragement from the older, wiser Winchester – he shifted to a more horizontal position on the mattress.

Dean kept watch of the kid, not failing to notice when his eyes began to droop. He casually turned the volume down and flicked off the lamp, it wasn't long before Sam's breathing evened out and he appeared to have dropped off to sleep.

Dean snickered softly, feeling a degree of personal success at getting Sam to fall asleep, as he reached down and tugged the blanket up and over the younger man's long frame.

Sam was turned toward him, curled up on his right side. It never ceased to amaze Dean how young his little brother managed to look when he was sleeping. He gently combed away the curtain of hair that had fanned itself across Sam's face. The older man frowned at what he saw beneath the brown mane, the dark circles that marred a pale complexion.

The kid was worn out, and Dean sure as hell wasn't doing him much good.

That was part of the reason he had insisted on being the one to take the leap back in time. He had both wanted to keep Sam out of harm's way (he hadn't known he was going to be leaving the kid alone with the fucking devil), and wanted to take at least one damn thing off his brother's plate.

"We're quite a pair, eh, Sammy?" Dean muttered, staring down at the sleeping man next to him. "You can't be alone with that bastard Lucifer _ever_ again, and I can't be trusted alone with God's bitch sister Amara. How about se just stick them in a room and let the tear each other to pieces." Dean rambled to himself.

"We just need to stick together." Sam said in a slurred whisper, his hand blindly reaching out until he had a grip of Dean's left wrist, only then did his long body seem to fully relax into the mattress.

As Sam completely surrendered to sleep, his hold on his brother loosened, but did not release.

Dean couldn't stop the fond smile from pulling at his lips as he turned his hand into Sam's so that he could return the grip, his fingers closing around his brother's thin wrist.

"We will, kiddo. You and me against the world, right?"

He didn't expect an answer, he was still surprised the younger man had been lucid enough to make any sort of comment.

"You and me, Sammy." Dean repeated.

He couldn't help feel a familiar warmth filling his chest.

Feeling Sam's heartbeat at the tip of his fingers.

Hearing his soft breathing.

Seeing his sleeping, child-like expression.

It filled him with hope.

Staring down at the young man who always gave him everything, who always fought so hard for him, who never gave up on him, never failed him; it overwhelmed Dean, filled him with more love than he thought he was capable of anymore.

Sam was his reason to fight.

His reason to push through.

His reason to believe in himself, and forgive himself.

His reason to never give up.

The restlessness that had been dominating Dean's body and soul, settled at the sight of his brother.

Sammy was his peace.

He was his clarity

He was his hope.

The kid always had been, and he always would be.

 **The End**

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Note: Thanks for reading! I really hope it wasn't too terrible. For all of you asking, I'm still working on "More Than Enough" and the next chapter is coming, I promise - first I have an update for Frostbite on the way though, so be patient babes! Thanks again! - Sam


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